17 months

it feels like forever and it feels like a day....funny how that works.

Why third grade spelling is so important

Another day, another self-portrait photo session

Mia, always so specific, decided what face we should make each time. Below is our (and I quote) "I just saw a huge dinosaur eat another baby dinosaur but they were in a cage so they couldn't eat us" face:

This is the "We just saw Santa putting lots of bicycles under our tree and he didn't even see us" face.

Mia's "I am standing on top of the desk and Mommy isn't mad" face:

My "I'm gonna get you, Bode" face:

Thank you, Father, for these precious times.

When...

...will my baby be well? Another trip to the doctor today, another ear infection, another round of rocephin shots, another miserable baby...

There is something eerily familiar about this post. It kind of reminds me of this, and this, and this....

It must be Monday

Just wait till Baby Daddy gets home and sees this...he'll think twice about staying late for a meeting again.

6:30 PM never looked so good.

To have 'em or not to have 'em...not that we can do anything about it now

This is why you have kids (and a husband who takes picture while you aren't home):

And then there's this:I had to have a magnifying glass to read my e-mails yesterday thanks to Bode's amazing technical skills. This also required Daddy to come home from work. Either way, I think they I'll keep them...

My Grandma is cooler than your Grandma

This is one of the many reasons why Ahmo rocks. I got these two e-mails from her yesterday:
The first one said, "I told my hairdresser I was tired of straight hair, so I got a perm yesterday."And the second one, "Not to worry, I have a CHI."

I wager to bet not too many 80-something-year-olds take before and after CHI pictures of themselves and e-mail them to their grand kids.

Thanks for making my day, Ahmo. I love you!

Manic Monday

Oh how I love Mondays. Here is how the day's events played out yesterday.
First, my lovely daughter came out of her room with this letter written just for me:

"I thought you didn't love me anymore, but you did."
After I removed the dagger from my heart, I immediately destroyed my Mother Of The Year application.

Next these two darlings took a permanent sharpie marker to our desk. They were very thorough and left no part unmarked.

Then we had this lovely little incident:

This required Dad to come home from work and assist me in breaking the chair in order to dislodge our son's huge noggin.

And finally the piece de resistance - Bode decided to drop a huge load in the bathtub. You should thank me for not taking pictures of this disaster. So after getting both kids out, showering them off, putting all the toys in the dishwasher and cleaning out the tub Andy said, "I have decided that I would rather clean vomit out of the carpet than poop out of the tub."

This is the reality of parenthood.

When all else fails, get naked

UPDATED: Still Life is Real Life

Painting a tomato...followed by an eggplant, three grapes, and a squash.

So apparently still life is NOT real life around here. Screaming all night is real life. Followed by another tip to the doctor, followed by another double ear infection, followed by another complete breakdown (mine, not his). So I'm all, "He's killing us, doc, you gotta do something." and she's all calm and collected like she sees kids like this everyday. And I continue on about how no other baby could possibly be this unhappy thus making his parents this sleep deprived and miserable. And finally, she brought out the big gun - Tylenol with Codeine. A bunch of it. And I shut-up, for now.

You Say Potato; I Say Pomme de Terre

Raegan and Mia watching television: Mia insisted on being in full play make-up with a baby doll attached to her chest. Raegan insisted on just simply watching television.
Gena I posted this as proof that your child actually ate something at my house (after I bribed her with Junior Mints, but still.)
To each his own....

Sleep Alludes Me

Things aren't going the way they were supposed to in '09. You see, my self-proclaimed theme for the year was simply "Serve." And here it is 6 days in and God is already expecting me to do just that and I have a major problem with it.

My 16-month-old seems to have forgotten how to sleep. He is regressed back to infanthood, and he seems just fine with it. I. Am. Not. However it dawned on me this morning, as I lie face down in my pillow begging God to give me just 5 more minutes of peace that this is part of serving. I wanted to serve the downtrodden, on a Saturday afternoon, in May. He asks me to serve my family, at 3 AM, on the first Monday morning of the year. I wasn't prepared for that.

God likes to surprise me. I wish He would choose to do it at 8 Am instead of at 3 and 4 and 5 and 6. I guess it took Him that long to get my attention. Well, He finally has it.

The only one they'll ever own

I hope the kids get their fill of the mini Mustang Convertible because they ain't ever gettin' another one. Thanks, Boppy (let's be honest, Bob bought this for himself. It's the only car he puts in the garage...)!

The Unhappiest Baby on the Block

That is going to be the title of the parenting survival guide I write someday. I want it to be on the shelf right next to that other book with a very similar title (less the un). My book may be quite a bit more depressing, but at least it will be real.

The Bodester has been sick with something or another for about, oh, 16 months now. Apparently his ear infections are no respecter of holidays. He had a 104.5 right as we were opening gifts and things only got worse until we could get him to the urgent care clinic. Here he is getting some sympathy from Dad:

Thankfully he wasn't too out of it to pick his nose...

and then carefully examine it.

And we are off to Dallas for a concert, some shopping, and some always needed r&r. Praise God!

I get knocked down, but I get up again...

So I am not too proud to admit that I failed my children miserably by trying to serve them bricks with icing (aka my homemade cinnamon rolls) on Christmas morning. Andy, the man who can't (or is it won't?) boil water, intervened and made donuts because as he so delicately put it, "These things aren't edible, Babe."
So after I had myself a little pity party I decided to do what I always do when all else fails, I called this woman:

And together we consulted this woman and let's just say the rest is now permanently upon my hips and thighs. These beautiful babies are proof that with a little help from my mentor, Ahmo, miracles can happen. And let me tell ya, the heavens opened up and I swear I heard angels sing when I sunk my teeth into them. And someday, when my children are telling their children about my wonderful cinnamon rolls, I will remind them that if it weren't for Ahmo, they would still be eating fried canned biscuit dough for Christmas (not that there's anything wrong with that). Thank you, Ahmo, for passing down your talents and passions to all of us.